


without your armour

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Magic, Revisionist Fairy Tale, The Frog Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is turned into a dog, told that the spell will only be broken if someone can learn to care for him despite his cynical soul. Not knowing what else to do, he goes to Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	without your armour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://youlighttheskyfanfiction.tumblr.com/post/36829122226/) fairy tale challenge, for the prompts The Frog Prince and black.
> 
> (Very, very loosely based on the fairy tale)

It starts, as most things with Grantaire tend to, with an empty bottle. Or, more honestly, _few_ bottles. He's been at the bar for more hours than he can count at this point and has been mixing his drinks for the past couple of hours now. The table in front of him is littered with empty bottles and Grantaire is sure there had been some absinthe, somewhere in there.

The point is: it's late, he's drunk, and honestly, that's the best explanation he has. Not that he's in any state to explain himself right now. If he were still a man, he'd be stumbling home, doing his best to stay upright and keep his eyes open until he reached his apartment. But that's the problem. _If_ he were still a man.

Because right now, he's a dog.

It's his own stupid fault, really. He'd been too drunk to think better of starting an argument with the man sitting in the back corner of the bar. He'd been wearing a thick, heavy cloak wrapped tightly around him despite the warmth of the room, and had insisted that magic was very much real. Grantaire, cynical at even the best of times, had been quick to tell him that it was very much _not_.

None of Grantaire's friends were with him to hold him back, so he'd gotten into an argument about it that had grown less coherent but more passionate as they'd continued to drink their way through more bottles.

"You believe in _nothing_ ," the man had hissed at him, once their arguing had gotten them kicked out. He made a strange gesture with his hand. "You won't be a man again until you manage to find someone who will care for you, despite your cynical soul."

Grantaire had been ready to laugh in the man's face and tell him that he didn't _need_ anything like that, but he found that he couldn't. Instead, he found himself shrinking, until he was barely tall enough to reach the man's knee.

And now he's here, the strange man having disappeared without another word, very much not a man, but a _dog_.

Well, fuck.

There's nothing to do but go home and figure out what to do, but going home means getting through the gate with the lock code in front of his apartment. He's definitely not tall enough to reach it and even if he could squeeze his way through the gates, there's a strict no-pets rule. He can't talk to explain what's happened to him, but even if he could, he doubts that would help.

Instead, he goes to the first place that comes to mind.

Enjolras' apartment.

It's late; Grantaire remembers the time being something close to midnight when he was kicked out of the bar. However, he knows that on some nights of the week, Enjolras studies at the university library until it closes, at one in the morning. Luckily for Grantaire, this is one such night.

Grantaire can find his way to Enjolras' place no matter where in town he is. He keeps walking until the streets start looking familiar, and it's easy enough to find. Enjolras' neighbours are already asleep, if the lack of lit windows is any indication, and Grantaire curls up on the doorstep to wait.

«·»

It's been a long night, and all Enjolras wants to do is get home and get some rest. The first wave of assessments is just around the corner, and he's been pushing himself to stay on top of all of his readings for his classes—including the optional ones his lecturer had recommended—so that he doesn't fall behind when he's working on the essays and presentations. He'd read through his stack of papers and textbook chapters until his eyelids began to droop, then bought himself a cup of strong coffee so he could power through the rest of them before the library closed.

Now, he's looking forward to his apartment, his bed, and a few hours of blissful unconsciousness. His keys jangle as he walks, pinky hooked around his keyring, and he picks up his pace as he approaches his block of apartments. Then, when his door is in sight, he stops.

There's a dog lying on his doorstep, small, black and scruffy. It looks like it's asleep but as soon as Enjolras steps closer, it immediately sits up, tail wagging.

"Uh." Enjolras stares at it. "Good dog. Go away."

The dog cocks its head to the side, tail still wagging. Enjolras sighs, stepping between it and the door, fitting his key into the lock.

"I don't have any food for you. Shoo."

The dog whines quietly and Enjolras doesn't look at it again as he closes the door behind him.

He puts his bag down and changes into his pyjamas, dragging himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth before bed. The dog's probably gone, he tells himself, but gives into the urge to check from his window.

It's curled up on his doorstep again, head resting on its paws, its hair so dark that Enjolras can only make out its small form because he knows what to look for.

He goes to bed, but despite the hour and how tired he is, sleep does not come. Enjolras is not the kind of person who can leave someone abandoned without help, and apparently that extends to animals too.

Getting out of bed, he goes to his front door and opens it.

The dog sits up again, its ears pressed back this time, tail lying still. Hating the thought that he's scared it, Enjolras kneels and extends a hand. The dog sniffs it, then bumps its nose against it.

Fighting the smile tugging at his lips, Enjolras carefully picks it up, cradling it against his chest. "Fine. You can come inside and I'll see if I've got anything for you to eat. Just for the night, okay? Then I'll figure out where you came from."

The dog wags its tail in reply, resting a paw on Enjolras' arm. When he sets it down inside the apartment, it follows at his heels, looking up at him and stumbling over its feet as a result. It's increasingly difficult for Enjolras not to smile.

He has a bowl of rice left over from dinner and it's not much, but the dog eats it happily all the same. By the time Enjolras has pulled out an old pillow and made a temporary bed for the dog, it's nearly two-thirty. He can't even bring himself to regret it, when the dog looks much happier than it did when he first found it.

«·»

Grantaire wakes to the sound of a shrill alarm, the light coming through the window suggesting that the sun is still rising.

Despite all of that, he can't bring himself to complain when everything smells of Enjolras. A moment later, he remembers that his sense of smell has improved because he's still a dog, and he's ready to complain again.

Enjolras has managed to wrap himself with his blankets, but manages to get a hand free to turn his alarm off. Grantaire walks over to the bed, still awkward in his movements as he tries to figure out how to walk with four legs. He ends up in a pile just near Enjolras' feet as he begins to get out of bed.

"Oh, so you weren't a dream." Enjolras' curls are a complete mess, his shirt is rucked up enough to show a bit of skin and a faint line of darker blond hair. There is a lot that Grantaire would give, to be allowed this sight as a man, not a dog.

"Up you get." Enjolras lifts Grantaire, helping him to his feet. "I need to get ready for class."

Grantaire sits back on the old pillow Enjolras had put out for him, trying to figure out what the hell he's going to do. There's the possibility that if he just waits for long enough, he'll end up turning back but even as he thinks it, he knows better than to put much hope in that. This is _magic_ and it doesn't make sense because it shouldn't even exist. He can remember the man from last night telling him that he needs someone to care for him, in order to break the spell. He's read enough fairytales to know that it roughly translates into someone loving him. Which means that Grantaire might as well get used to being a dog for the rest of his goddamned life.

The thought makes him sulk, to the point where he doesn't even lift his head when he hears Enjolras coming out of the bathroom.

"I've never seen a dog _mope_ before," Enjolras comments. He scratches Grantaire behind the ear and it's impossible not to lean into the touch. His tail wags of its own accord and Enjolras chuckles, deep and warm. "There, that's better now isn't it? Come on, let's have some breakfast."

Enjolras makes toast with jam. While Grantaire knows that Enjolras likes his crusts, he cuts them off and places them on the floor, along with a boiled egg.

"Just don't make a mess," Enjolras says and Grantaire does his best, eating the crusts first, thrilled when there's a bit of jam on some pieces. The egg is a challenge, however, rolling away from him every time he tries to bite it. He ends up chasing it across the kitchen floor, snapping at it, before he realises that this is _Enjolras_ ' apartment, and that he's certainly not going to appreciate that.

When he turns around to look, however, Enjolras' shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as he watches on.

It cheers Grantaire up for a moment, before he realises that this is probably the most he's made Enjolras smile over the past year they've known each other. It's probably easier for him to charm people as a dog than as a person and the thought is even less welcome than the possibility of being a dog for the rest of his life.

«·»

By the time Enjolras has finished eating his breakfast, the dog is moping again. He's never seen an animal this unhappy before, and he doesn't know what to do about it.

Pushing his chair out a bit, he turns to the dog and whistles quietly. It responds immediately, walking over to him. He pats it for a while, pleased to see its tail wagging.

"I need to figure out what I'm going to do with you," he murmurs. "I don't think there are any no-kill shelters around here, so that's out of the question."

The dog doesn't have a collar, but it's too well-behaved to be a stray. It probably belongs to someone in the area. It probably looks so upset because it misses its owner.

"Alright, hold still." Enjolras takes his phone out of his pocket and snaps a picture of the dog. It's mostly a featureless mass of black curls but after three more attempts yielding the same result, he sighs and accepts it.

"I'll put your photo up and see if anyone's lost a dog." It looks like it's just growing out of the puppy stage, and it's a male. Enjolras hopes that's enough information. He pats it again. "Look, I'm going to let you outside for a while, because I'm going to have to leave you in here while I'm in class. Okay?"

Whoever owns this dog, Enjolras thinks once he's finally on his way to class, they're lucky to have such an obedient pet. He stayed when Enjolras told him to, and didn't run off, even when one of the neighbourhood cats walked by. It makes Enjolras wonder how the dog had gotten lost in the first place.

He puts up a few posters on the university notice boards during his break that morning but by the afternoon, when Enjolras is making his way home, he's yet to have any replies.

He briefly stops by the pet shop to pick up a small pack of kibble and a couple of cheap dog bowls so that he's not just using plastic bowls instead. When he gets home, he's surprised to find that everything's still just as neat as he'd left it. The dog's napping in a patch of sunlight coming through the window, and wakes up when he hears Enjolras walking into the house. He immediately asks to be let outside and hides out of sight in the bushes, wandering back to Enjolras when he's ready to come back in.

Just as Enjolras had been expecting, he's been given a whole heap of assignments at once. He feeds the dog, makes a snack for himself, and sits down at his desk to start working.

When the dog lies on the floor beside his feet, warm and soft and comforting, Enjolras is glad that there's nobody else around to see him smile, or take breaks from his work to pat the dog.

«·»

Two days pass quickly, and Grantaire feels no different from when he'd first been turned into a dog. He spends most of his day sleeping while Enjolras is out, because there's really nothing better to do. When Enjolras is home, Grantaire stays as close to him as possible. Grantaire doesn't know why Enjolras has always been a source of comfort to him; he supposed that it's the way Enjolras always has hope and always has _purpose_. He's glad that he's here, because even if he's stuck as a dog, at least he has Enjolras for company.

"Hey, dog." Enjolras' voice brings him out of his thoughts. Enjolras is holding the leash he'd come home with that afternoon. He frowns slightly. "I should probably figure out what to call you. _Dog_ isn't really original now, is it?"

As far as Grantaire knows, nobody has responded to the lost dog posters. Grantaire is glad for it, and even gladder that Enjolras has just accepted the fact that the dog is stating around for longer than anticipated.

"Really though, with all those black curls and the sulking, you make me want to call you—" Enjolras cuts himself off with a quiet cough. "Never mind. Dog will do for now. Walk?"

What Grantaire really wants to do is make Enjolras finish his sentence, but as there's no way for him to do that, he gets to his feet and wags his tail. Walks get him out of the house, and he loves walking with Enjolras. Even though Enjolras doesn't talk to Grantaire even half as much as he does when they're at home, his company is nice, and it's clearly relaxing for him too.

They're supposed to have a meeting for the Social Justice Society tonight. It's the first one since Grantaire was turned into a dog, and it's the first one that he'll be missing since Enjolras started it. He's been late to them before, he's been hung over, and more often than not, he's been at least a little drink, but he's never been _absent_ before and he doesn't particularly like the thought of it.

He's sure that someone has noticed that he's disappeared; he texts people fairly regularly whenever he gets bored and even if he's not in class, he's usually at the bar. Enjolras doesn't seem to have noticed, but Grantaire can't say he's particularly surprised about that. He wonders if anyone else has, and if anyone else cares.

"Dog?" Enjolras calls. They're in a park, and Grantaire realises that he's stopped walked. He sits down with a huff and Enjolras bends, picking him up. "I'm sorry, did we go too far? You're probably tired."

Grantaire rests his head against Enjolras' chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire's small form more securely, and carries him home.

«·»

This week's meeting is absolute chaos. It starts when Bahorel sits down and asks, "Has anyone heard from Grantaire recently?"

It _has_ been a while, Enjolras reflects. He'd taken notice of it at the back of his mind, but he's been distracted by his assignments and the dog, and he hadn't done anything about it.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he checks his message inbox. He has a long thread of messages with Grantaire, almost all of them having been sent by Grantaire at some point in the night when he's drunk, but the last one had been sent four days ago.

Combeferre watches him with a raised eyebrow and Enjolras clears his throat. "Has anyone received any texts from Grantaire over the past four days?"

Combeferre's eyebrow rises even higher, but before he can speak, Courfeyrac quickly says, "No, nothing. I haven't seen him at the bar at all, either."

Enjolras frowns with concern. "I see."

"He's never done this before," Bahorel speaks up. "It's unlike him, especially to miss a meeting."

"The last I heard from him, he was drinking." Joly taps his fingers against the desk, looking at Enjolras.

They're all expecting him to take charge and naturally, he does.

"Ask around, see if anyone's heard from him at all recently. Ask around at the bar, the cafe, the art store, even his classmates. Someone has to know where he is." With a quiet sigh, he adds, "Let me know what you find out, even if it's nothing. I want to hear from all of you one way or another by the end of the day tomorrow."

Everyone else nods in agreement. Enjolras tries to continue on to the actual meeting, but everyone is clearly distracted. They get through the main agenda before giving up, finishing early. Enjolras can't help the way his gaze snaps to every latecomer, hopeful and then disappointed when it's not Grantaire.

When he gets home, the dog is lying on the couch, on top of a blanket that Enjolras had spread out on top of it this morning. He stirs when Enjolras sits down beside him, lifting his head.

"Hey." Enjolras pats his head distractedly, still thinking about Grantaire. The dog rests his head on Enjolras' leg, making a low sound in its throat. Enjolras sighs heavily. "One of my friends has gone missing. No one's heard from him in days and it's… worrying, to say the least."

The dog looks up at him. Enjolras feels stupid for having this conversation with a dog, but he finds that he prefers talking things out.

"His name's Grantaire and he's… well, the last anyone heard of him, he'd been drinking. Then he just disappeared. I don't know what to think of that."

The dog climbs into Enjolras' lap, placing a paw against his chest. Enjolras strokes his back with a small smile.

"Yeah. He's probably fine."

The dog taps its paw against his chest again. Scooping him up, Enjolras puts him down on the floor.

"Alright, come on. Let's go for a walk and see what we can find out."

They go for a walk around Grantaire's apartment, but nobody that Enjolras speaks to has seen Grantaire either. Most of them are also students who have their own work to deal with and don't really spare a second thought for Grantaire. Enjolras isn't sure why that makes him so _angry_ but after half an hour, he can no longer stands the disinterested looks and half-arsed shrugs. He marches home, the dog following at his heels, and barely keeps from slamming the door behind him.

"It's like he doesn't even _matter_ ," he seethes, half-addressing the dog but mostly needing to rant. "They have absolutely no idea."

Grantaire is grounding; he's full of challenges, demanding that those around him prove themselves. He isn't the kind of person who is happy with baseless claims and that is part of what drives Enjolras to delve into research and construct airtight arguments, because Grantaire is not afraid to point out the flaws in anything when he sees them. Enjolras him— _he needs Grantaire_ —and he's never quite thought of it like that before. He isn't sure whether he wants to turn that fact over in his mind, or just ignore it entirely so he doesn't need to think about what it means.

The next day, Combeferre messages Enjolras to say that he's coming over, along with Courfeyrac, Joly and Marius. When Joly steps into the apartment and sees the dog, he nearly has a heart attack.

"It's fine," Enjolras insists, keeping a careful eye on the dog, who doesn't seem to mind the fact that Marius is picking him up. "Everything's been disinfected. He doesn't have fleas. He actually keeps himself pretty clean."

"You never told us you got a dog," Courfeyrac comments, looking at Enjolras curiously.

"He's not really mine," Enjolras replies, shaking his head. "He's just a stray I found. I couldn't leave him out on his own."

Joly hovers by the couch, eyeing it warily. Enjolras is glad he'd thought to put the blanket away before anyone had shown up.

"Come on Joly, it's fine, sit down. This little guy isn't going to kill you." Marius scratches behind the dog's ears and looks over at Enjolras. "So, have you given him a name?"

For a moment, Enjolras thinks of the name he'd briefly, _briefly_ considered and then shakes his head. "I just call him Dog."

"Well, that's depressingly unimaginative," Combeferre mutters. He watches the dog hop down from Marius' lap and walk over to Enjolras' side, and hums in thought. "He likes you, though."

Enjolras looks down at the dog with a small grin and crouches to pat him. "I guess. He's a good dog."

When Enjolras goes into the kitchen to grab a few bottles of beer out of the fridge, the dog follows at his heels. Whenever Enjolras looks at him, he wags his tail.

"I know what you can call him," Combeferre says with a grin, "considering he follows you around everywhere. And he's even got the floppy black hair."

Courfeyrac kicks Combeferre to shut him up, but Enjolras frowns, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh?"

"Face it. Who else is that loyal to you? Call him R."

" _Loyal_ ," Enjolras repeats disbelievingly, choosing to focus on that part and nothing else.

"Why else do you think R hangs around?" Combeferre asks. "It's because of _you_. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. He's completely in—"

Combeferre is cut off by a loud crash. Enjolras swears as he realises that the dog has wandered off. He runs in the direction of the sound, unthinkingly calling out, " _Grantaire_!"

The dog is standing near the front door, frozen in place. Enjolras' coat rack is lying on the floor, bags and jackets scattered all over the place.

"Don't scare me like that," Enjolras scolds, stepping over his coat to pick the dog up, cradling him close and breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that he's unharmed.

It's only when he gets back to the lounge room and sees his friends' expressions that he realises what he'd called out.

"Well." Combeferre leans back into the couch, looking smug. "Looks like I didn't even have to suggest it."

Enjolras feels his face heat, but he refuses to be the first to look away. Combeferre lowers his gaze with a light shrug. "I'm just saying. You clearly thought of it too."

Enjolras shakes his head, setting the dog down again. "Enough of that. If we're going to talk about Grantaire, we might as well get to the reason you're all here in the first place."

They spend the next hour talking about how unsuccessful they've all been in their search for any sign from Grantaire. Enjolras refuses to believe that anything bad has happened; regardless of how Grantaire might choose to present himself to others, Enjolras knows that he's clever enough to stay out of serious trouble, and that he can take care of himself. Still, he cannot help that there's been absolutely no sign of him at all.

"I'm not actually going to name you Grantaire," he tells the dog, once the others are gone. "That doesn't seem fair, as much as you sometimes remind me of him, especially when you decide to mope. He's a good friend of mine."

The dog huffs in reply. Enjolras sighs, reaching out a hand, feeling the dog's cold, wet nose bump against his fingers.

"He's decided to just up and leave without telling anyone. He won't even return my voicemails. I just want him back."

The dog climbs into Enjolras' lap, nuzzling against his chest. Running his fingers through the black curls, Enjolras sits there, his mind full with thoughts of Grantaire while he carefully tries not to think too hard about him at all.

«·»

It's been an entire week since Grantaire was turned into a dog. Seven days of him being missing, as far as his friends are concerned. Enjolras is growing increasingly agitated, and no matter how Grantaire tries, he cannot find a way to communicate the fact that it's _him_ , right here.

"I don't know what to do," Enjolras mutters, sitting at his desk. He's taken to talking to Grantaire on a regular basis; he bares himself completely and it would be much more welcome if not for the fact that he has no idea that he's talking to Grantaire, and that Grantaire cannot reply.

"It's been seven days. We have to declare him missing."

Grantaire whines low in his throat and Enjolras sighs, bending down to pat him.

"I don't like it either. Who knows what he's gotten himself into?"

Grantaire paws at Enjolras' leg, his heart sinking. He'll be declared missing and then after he still doesn't turn back into a human, he'll eventually be declared dead and he'll just fade from everyone's lives until he's just a nameless dog and a faint memory. The thought makes him whimper.

"No, shh, come here." Enjolras stands, picking Grantaire up and pacing across the room. "Maybe they'll pick up on something we've missed. Maybe they'll find him."

Grantaire scoffs, the sound coming out as a quiet huff. Of all things, it makes Enjolras laugh softly. "Well, aren't you the little optimist? Maybe I should name you R after all."

Grantaire bumps his nose against Enjolras' jaw, earning him a small smile.

"You're a good dog," Enjolras tells him, and presses a kiss to the top of Grantaire's head.

Which, apparently, is all that it takes.

Grantaire can feel the magic running through him, the spell coming undone. The next thing he knows, Enjolras is overbalancing, falling backwards. Grantaire just barely manages to reach out, cushioning the back of Enjolras' head before it hits the floor.

" _Grantaire_." Enjolras sits up and Grantaire shuffles back to give him some space. "What the hell?"

"I don't know." Grantaire shakes his head. "One minute I'm me and the next I'm a _dog_ , okay? And then you… I don't even know."

Enjolras stares at him silently for a moment. Grantaire gives him the time to gather his thoughts.

"Sit down," Enjolras finally says, walking over to the couch. "Explain."

Grantaire sits at the very edge of the couch, gaze fixed on his hands. Enjolras remains standing, giving Grantaire the time he needs now.

"I was at the bar," he begins, pursing his lips when Enjolras scoffs. Grantaire looks up with a quiet sigh and continues. "I started talking to this guy who was sitting in a corner. He was trying to convince me that magic is real."

"It's not," Enjolras replies immediately.

Grantaire smiles without humour. "That's what I thought. I was drunk and had no problem with telling him how wrong he was. We actually ended up getting kicked out of the bar for arguing so loudly, and that's about the time he decided to _prove_ that he was right."

"By turning you into a dog…" Enjolras frowns as he realises just what this means. "And you've been living in my house for the past week."

"I couldn't exactly get into my own apartment," Grantaire replies with a small shrug.

"You could have _said_ something! Done something, to let me know what was going on."

"You don't think I tried? Every single time you talked to me about… _me_ , I'd try to find a way to get you to understand."

Enjolras' eyes widen; Grantaire has no doubt that he's realising just how much of himself he's revealed without thought over the past week. He doesn't speak, no matter how long Grantaire waits. Finally, Grantaire gives up. He doesn't want to stay for long enough to have Enjolras kick him out, and it's clear enough to him that Enjolras wants him gone. He's definitely overstayed his welcome.

"Look, I'll just…" Grantaire trails off, getting to his feet and showing himself out.

Enjolras stays right where he is, not making a sound.

Grantaire is wearing the same clothes he was wearing the night the spell was cast on him. He still has his wallet in his back pocket along with his keys, and his phone in his jacket pocket. He pulls it out, wincing at the fact that there are literally hundred of missed calls and messages waiting for him. He has a whole bunch of voice mails and he isn't quite sure what makes him listen to them, but he does.

The automated voice tells him that he most recent one is from around midnight last night.

"Hey." It's Enjolras' voice, soft and tired. "Just me again. I… the guys are worried, okay. You still need to meet that dog I told you about. You'll probably get along really well. He kind of… he reminds me of you, a bit. …Uh, forget that. Call me back. Or message. Please?"

Grantaire hands up, his hands shaking. He walks the rest of the way to his apartment without looking at his phone once.

When he's finally back in his apartment with the door locked behind him, he does two things. First, he jerks off, trying and failing not to think of Enjolras. Then he gets himself extraordinarily drunk.

«·»

Enjolras doesn't hear from Grantaire until the next Social Justice meeting. Combeferre had called a few hours after Grantaire left his place. Enjolras had pretended not to know anything and he's stuck to the pretense since then. It's a hell of a lot easier than trying to explain the truth. Besides, that's Grantaire's call and he doesn't seem particularly eager to talk to Enjolras right now.

Grantaire walks into the meeting room with Bahorel and Joly, not even trying to hide the bottle he's carrying. His lips are wet and curved into a small, wry grin but his eyes are sharp and his shoulders are tense. He doesn't look at Enjolras once.

Everybody is far too distracted welcoming Grantaire back to get the meeting started. Enjolras doesn't mind waiting; he uses the time to take a proper look at Grantaire, taking in the bags under his eyes, the way his fingers tap against the glass neck of his bottle, and the unhappiness that his grin only amplifies, instead of masking it.

"Where were you?" Jehan asks and Enjolras waits for the answer, curious to know what Grantaire will say.

"I needed a break from everything." There's enough bitterness in Grantaire's tone to make it believable. "I had to get out of here for a while, so I did. Turned my phone off and left."

The others exchange uncomfortable looks, not knowing whether to push. Grantaire is unpredictable at the best of times, which is part of what makes the story work.

"Well," Courfeyrac finally says, clearing his throat. "A bit of warning next time, maybe?"

Grantaire smiles humourlessly. "I'll keep that in mind."

There's a brief silence before Enjolras shuffles his papers and gets their actual meeting started. No matter how many times he glances in Grantaire's direction, his looks are not returned. He doesn't know what to say to Grantaire and part of him is still reeling at the thought of having spent an entire week with Grantaire, completely unfiltered. Enjolras is extremely cautious with the way he projects himself to others. He feels exposed, and it's a little unpleasant.

He pushes the thoughts from his mind for the rest of the meeting, focusing on the matters at hand instead. By the time their meeting's over, Grantaire has finished his bottle of beer, and Grantaire still doesn't know what to say.

He tries stopping Grantaire on his way out of the room, hoping that the words will come to him when he needs them. Grantaire sidesteps him without missing a beat and when their eyes meet for a brief moment, Enjolras can't bring himself to stop Grantaire from leaving.

"Everything okay?" Combeferre asks, walking over to Enjolras' side.

"Yeah," Enjolras replies immediately, then, "…I don't know."

Combeferre rocks back on his heels, watching Grantaire walk awaying before looking at Enjolras. "Talk to him?"

Enjolras laughs quietly at that. He's not used to having to struggle to find the right words and even if he had them, Grantaire would have to let him speak first.

Combeferre, being the good friend that he is, seems to get all of this without Enjolras having to say anything.

"Let him talk instead? Or give it some time. You'll figure it out."

"Yeah." Enjolras goes back to gathering his notes and packing them away. "Thanks."

«·»

Every now and then, Grantaire has trouble sleeping. He'll jerk awake in the middle of the night and scramble for a moment, everything feeling _wrong_ until he realises he's in his bed, in his apartment, not Enjolras'.

He hates this feeling. He hates missing Enjolras' company, knowing that Enjolras himself is probably glad to be rid of him. He didn't seem to mind when Grantaire was a dog, but it's different now. The fact that Enjolras liked him better as a dog than a person is depressing enough to have Grantaire getting out of bed and pulling a bottle out of the fridge.

He doesn't bother checking the time, flicking the lights on and sitting down at his desk. He has a week's worth of work to catch up on and as much as he enjoys his fine arts degree, it's difficult to get anything done when he's too busy thinking about Enjolras. He works until the sun rises anyway, doing what little he can manage, before the exhaustion gets to him and he ends up passed out on the couch.

He wakes sometime in the afternoon to his phone ringing. He grabs it from his desk and answers it without looking at the screen.

"Hello?"

"Grantaire." It's Enjolras, and Grantaire feels his heart skip a beat. "Sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No," Grantaire replies immediately. "No, it's fine."

"Oh." Enjolras' voice is soft and cautious.

They both sit in silence for a moment. Silence from Enjolras used to be strange, before Grantaire had lived with him for a week. Now, he knows that it just means Enjolras is trying to find the best way to put his thoughts into words.

Grantaire takes pity on him. He's pretty sure he knows why Enjolras is on the other side of the phone, over-thinking every single word he wants to say.

Despite the fact that Enjolras was the one to call him, Grantaire takes a breath and asks, "Can I come over?"

"Yeah." Enjolras clears his throat and speaks louder this time, the relief clear in his tone. "Sure thing."

"I'll be over in ten," Grantaire says, already pulling a jacket on and grabbing his keys. "See you then."

He pauses at the door of the bottle shop on his way to Enjolras' apartment, but thinks better of it. He ducks into the cafe across the street instead, getting two coffees and a pack of freshly baked donuts instead. Enjolras would probably appreciate it more.

When Grantaire knocks on Enjolras' door, it opens immediately. Enjolras gives him an awkward smile before stepping aside. "Come in."

Grantaire puts the carry tray of coffee down on the kitchen bench and takes on out, handing it to Enjolras. "Soy latte, one sugar."

"Thanks." Enjolras takes it, but even as he does, Grantaire doesn't miss the slight furrow to his brows, the unmistakable way the cogs are turning in his brain.

"It's okay," Grantaire tells him, sipping his own mocha. "I've known what kind of coffee you like for ages. Not because I lived in your house as a dog for the past week."

Enjolras sighs, looking down at his cup of coffee and not replying for a long moment before he nods towards the paper bag. "What's in there?"

"Breakfast." Grantaire pulls a donut out, biting into it.

Enjolras frowns. "It's half past one."

Grantaire shrugs. "Well if you don't want them, I'll have them."

Enjolras sits, taking a donut himself. Grantaire grins at him and for a moment, their silence almost feels comfortable. _Almost_.

When Enjolras still doesn't say anything, Grantaire clears his throat. "Look, I know you're freaking out. Fair enough. I kind of invaded your privacy without you having an idea. I totally get that you're mad—"

"I'm not," Enjolras interrupts. He grabs a tissue from the coffee table to wipe the cinnamon off his fingers, and turns so that he's facing Grantaire. "I'm really not. I've been thinking about it since you left and… really, what could you do? You were a _dog_."

"For the record," Grantaire murmurs against the lid of his coffee cup, "I'm glad I decided to come here."

"Why did you?" Enjolras asks. "Why me?"

Grantaire snorts quietly. "If you don't know that by now, I don't think I can help you."

"Well, maybe I just want to hear it from _you_ ," Enjolras says quietly. "Not from Combeferre, or anyone else."

Grantaire's eyes widen as he realises what Enjolras is referring to. "So you ended up getting that after all."

"You might have wanted to interrupt him a little earlier."

Grantaire shakes his head, taking a long sip of coffee before laughing quietly. "Well, shit."

Enjolras gives him a patient look, waiting for a moment before speaking again. "You're not telling me that Combeferre is completely out of his mind and that he has no idea what he's talking about."

Grantaire eyes Enjolras carefully. "Do you want me to? Because if you want to pretend this conversation never happened—"

"Jesus, Grantaire." Enjolras reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around Grantaire's wrist.

Grantaire opens his mouth to forestall any protest Enjolras might have but instead of speaking, Enjolras is tugging him closer, his free hand coming up to settle on Grantaire's shoulder.

Enjolras kisses with the same fierce dedication he does everything else. It leaves Grantaire with no doubt that he's doing this because he wants to, because he _means_ it. That thought is enough to have Grantaire making a desperate noise at the back of his throat, his hands coming up to hold Enjolras.

Their kiss tastes of coffee and donuts but underneath that, Grantaire can taste _Enjolras_ and he chases that, until there's nothing else, until Enjolras is pulling back for air, laughing breathlessly.

Grantaire grins himself, self-conscious and elated all at once. Enjolras runs his thumb across Grantaire's lower lip affectionately, his smile growing when Grantaire presses a kiss to it.

"I missed you," Enjolras murmurs. "When I thought you were missing, and then when you were avoiding me."

" _Avoiding_ you." Grantaire laughs quietly, shaking his head. "I didn't think you'd want me around."

"Well, the next time you think that," Enjolras begins, and it makes Grantaire smile that there's no _if_ —Enjolras knows him better than that. "Next time, think twice okay? Not having you around made me realise just how much I _need_ you around."

Grantaire doesn't know what to say in response; he's nowhere near as good at putting his thoughts into words. Instead, he simply pulls Enjolras into another kiss. Enjolras kisses back, his hands going to Grantaire's hair. They kiss until they're breathless again and when they pull apart this time, Grantaire gives Enjolras a serious look.

"Look, I'm warning you now. This isn't going to be easy, okay? I don't do things halfway."

Enjolras snorts quietly. "And what makes you think that _I_ do?"

Grantaire sighs heavily, looking away. "I just… I don't want to freak you out later."

Placing his fingers under Grantaire's chin to tilt it upwards, Enjolras looks into his eyes. "Well, _I_ didn't scare you away, after a whole week of being completely unfiltered."

"That's different. That wasn't a bad thing. It was like seeing you without your armour."

"My armour," Enjolras repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up." Grantaire sits up, trying to move away, but Enjolras places a hand on his side, asking him to stay. "I really like you, okay. And I'm kind of terrified of fucking this up."

"Well, I'm not really that keen on fucking it up either," Enjolras replies, drawing Grantaire closer again. "But this is better than not trying at all, right?"

Grantaire sighs into their next kiss. "Yeah. You're right."

They wrap their arms around each other and Grantaire breathes in deeply, taking in the familiar, comforting scent of Enjolras. This feels right, he thinks, turning his face to press his lips to the side of Enjolras' neck. This, he can believe in.


End file.
